


Flashing Colors

by Withstarryeyes



Series: Heart on Your Sleeve [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Emotions, F/M, Fluffy, Hair, One-Shot, Short, colorful hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 03:54:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6549526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Withstarryeyes/pseuds/Withstarryeyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has expressive hair and there's one color you still don't know what it means: pink</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flashing Colors

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This post is based around this ask set:  
> http://catslovebooks13.tumblr.com/post/142767904047/askthetic-these-are-beautiful  
> particularly number 19

Dean’s hair was dark blonde ranging to brown usually. It was the sand left wet by the receding tide. 

But that all changed during a hunt. It had been distracting at first. Bewildering to find out his hair changed color on his emotions. You’d gotten thrown into a cabinet after gaping at his flaming red hair during a salt and burn. He’d just shot off a round of his shotgun, the ghost reappearing behind Sam and pinning him against the wall, one shimmering hand clenched around his throat. Sam had turned purple and Dean’s hair had flashed red. 

You gasped and the ghost turned his attention on you. The brown eyes dark enough to be black taunted you above a curving smile as your feet fell from underneath you and you felt plates shattering in the china cabinet you’d been relocated to. 

Coming to, you tried to convince yourself that it was the concussion. Some sort of mirage that had dyed the tips of Dean’s hair orange. Brassy and loud and oh so there. 

“Does it always do that?” You’d mumbled while you were still out of it and Dean had flushed, his hair ombreing pink. “I think I need a doctor,” You grunted while getting up, harshly swaying to a side. Dean’s hand found the small of your back and you shut your eyes at the orange tips. 

It took some time to get used to. Sam and Dean becoming your new hunting partners, after your boyfriend died at the hands of a ghoul. You hadn’t quite expected the cuter of the two brothers to have… expressive hair. Especially with the impressive control had on his facial expressions. Dipping from stone cold blank to a flirty smirk in a flash. But there it was in all it’s colorful glory, coming up in times of intense emotion. 

After the first hunt it seemed to pop up more and more around you. You’d woken up from nightmares one night. Knives haunting the crevices of your mind as your blue eyes opened, as icy as your body temperature. You felt weight on your wrists and thrashed against the invisible threats out of your dream. 

“Y/N, calm down. Calm down,” You glanced up at the man again. His face was unreadable, mouth flipping down like an umbrella, eyes set close to a glare. But his hair was marbled. Orange to pink to cyan. 

“Worry,” You whispered, hands under limp under his grasp. Your eyes trailed up to hair as you tangled your hands in the strands. 

“What?” His eyebrows folded together like a deck of cards.

“Orange. It means you’re worried, right?” Worming your lip through your teeth you let go of his hair, it flopped into his eyes. The orange faded to a muted creamsicle but the pink grew more vibrant. What did that mean?

A headache started knocking it’s hands against your temples and you groaned. The orange seemed to overtake the pink and you lifted your head from the pillow to see Dean slip out the door, his hair leaving an aura behind. 

You flipped onto your stomach, hands diving under your pillow to run over the gun there. Your heartbeat slowed at the safeness you felt gripping it. Dean returned, his hair back to sandy brown, eyes gleaming. 

“What’s the pink mean?”

He looked away and you shied away, gulping down the water he gave you. 

“It’s late, Y/N. Try to get some sleep?” He hummed and you nodded slowly returning to your sideways sleeping position. You could tell he lingered in the door as you nodded off. Light pink inching from the roots to the top of his hair. You had to know what that meant. 

The color was in full force as you entered the kitchen in the morning. But the pink was replaced with peep yellow, pride, happiness and nostalgia you guessed in the wide arching movements of his hands. He was talking with Sam and they looked close to hysterical laughter.

“What’s got you so cheerful blondie?” You asked, Dean and Sam flopping over with laughter. 

“Legos,” Dean fought out and you smiled against your grumpy morning mood. Your headache was worse but you loved seeing Dean and Sam in moments like this. Scrapbook moments, ones that showcased their relationship. 

Sam left to go shower and you poured a cup of coffee, putting cream in yours and handing Dean his from the corner. 

“Thanks for last night,” Nonchalance in your body language as Dean glanced over and nodded. His hair flared royal purple as his eyes trailed your toes up to the hem of your shorts. You’d forgotten you’d worn your old ones from college to bed. 

“Eyes where they’re supposed to be, Mister,” You said and Dean’s mouth twisted into that tantalizing smirk. 

“Just appreciating the artwork,” He winked and you groaned, slapping his arm. 

You decoded Dean’s hair like a mood ring eventually but the pink still had you stumped. 

Cyan for guilt (he accidentally shot you when he thought you were the shapeshifter. The blue didn’t fade for days)

Yellow for happiness that usually came with family. You liked that Dean held people like treasures. 

Orange, worry. 

Purple, lust

Light gray when he was tired

Red, anger

Green for jealousy. Deep olives for men at the bars that placed their hands on you without asking. Light green whenever Sam and you flirted carelessly. 

But pink? You had no idea. 

It’d come up plenty. But you never really knew how or why. You’d be reading a book in the library, chuckling lightly at the characters banter and he’d have baby pink hair for a second. Or you’d drag him to bed after too many beers and the pink would bleed strawberry. One time you’d cut your finger and among the orange were pink highlights,  The last one had you splintering over the logic. 

“What does it mean” You grunted and Dan pulled a sour look at you. 

“What does what mean?”

“The pink,” You sat down on a chair, legs folded underneath you. It just didn’t make any sense. 

“Why do you want to know so bad?” and his hair flipped then, cerulean blue. That one you didn’t quite know either. 

“I… It’s just… it makes me feel like I don’t know you. Like I should,” Your stomach flipped. You liked Dean, had a crush on him for a while. You liked cataloguing his details and this blatant fact not being in your hands made you want to punch something. 

“You know me.” Direct. 

“Sorta,” Your hands drew circles on your thighs as you thought back to all the near kisses you’d had with them. Lilac and lavender, all the hues of purple you could imagine. “I guess,”

He tipped your chin up and the tears collecting in your eyes caught his attention. Cyan, light in waves like the caribbean sea. Pink hues creating a mock horizon above the waves. 

“You really want to know?” He asked, you could see his will to keep secrecy crumble, his hand stroking your cheek. 

“It’s love.” He said quickly, turning away and looking at the beer bottle on the table, set next to the cutting board you’d just sliced your finger on. 

“Love?” Hope arching in your chest. 

“Yeah, love.” Magenta erupted in light freckles all in his purple hair, 

His mouth cresting on yours. Out of the whole damn rainbow, pink was now your favorite color. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'd really appreciate it if you took the time to leave a comment or kudos. I love getting feedback on my work. Thank you si much for reading!


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